


Not Always In Writing

by ShannaraIsles



Series: Cullen & Mila's Modern Adventures [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anthology, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Gen, Prompt Fic, Quickie, Sexual Tension, Smut, Teasing, Tumblr Prompt, first I love you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-03-02 11:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13316898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShannaraIsles/pseuds/ShannaraIsles
Summary: A collection of prompts from tumblr based around the events of Dear Friend, and what happened next. Cullen Rutherford/Mila Trevelyan centric, Modern AU.Tags will be added. Rating will likely change. ;)





	1. Chapter 1

“… Damn. Is he all right?”

Alys looked up from her coloring, curious concern covering her face at the sound of her Daddy’s worried tone. She knew he was talking to Auntie Mia, but it didn’t sound like it was a good sort of talk. He was pacing, one hand rubbing through his hair. He only did that when something happened that was unexpected and he didn’t know what to do. 

“Well, I’ll call Mila and make other arrangements,” he said after a pause. “No, Mia, stop that. It’s no one’s fault. A date can always be rearranged; you can’t ask the ‘flu to come back at a more convenient time.” He chuckled faintly, but Alys could see the anxious line of his frown even as he made his voice lighter for her aunt’s sake. “It’s fine, Mia. Look after your boys. And yourself - no point nursing them back to health if you succumb. I’ll call tomorrow. Night.”

Hanging up the phone, he turned to Alys with a disappointed expression. “Liam and Uncle Gav have the ‘flu, Nuglet,” he told her, “so you can’t go to their house tonight.”

Alys frowned herself, just as disappointed as he was. 

“Does that mean you won’t go out with Mila, just ‘cos you have to stay with me?” she asked. That wasn’t a good thing - Daddy had been excited about going out for the evening with Mila, and _she’d_ been excited about them going out together as well. 

Her Daddy sighed, nodding. “It looks like it, love,” he told her, offering a smile meant to reassure the little girl in front of him. “But it doesn’t mean I won’t ever go out with her again, so stop looking like that. I _do_ have to call her to cancel, though.”

“Can you put her on speak-it?”

“Speak _er_ ,” Daddy corrected gently, pulling the phone from its cradle again. “Yes, if you want me to. I don’t think we have anything to say that isn’t for little ears.”

“My ears aren’t that little,” she objected, putting a hand up to feel one of said sensory organs as her father tapped Mila’s number into the phone.

He set it down on the table and sat down beside her, letting her crawl up into his lap as the ringer buzzed. It buzzed four times before it stopped, a distant familiar laugh getting louder as Mila raised her phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“It’s us!” Alys burst out before Daddy could say anything. “There’s things gone wrong and it’s awful!”

“And hello to you too, Nuglet,” was Mila’s reply. “What’s happened?”

Daddy laid a gentle finger on Alys’ lips. “My sister’s house has the ‘flu,” he explained regretfully. “I’m afraid there’s no babysitter for tonight, so unfortunately I have to cancel.”

There was a very brief pause. “I’m confused,” Mila’s voice said. It sounded like she was smiling. “Why do we have to cancel?”

“‘Cos you can’t go on a date with me there, ‘cos I’m not romanticable,” Alys informed her. Grown-ups were so stupid sometimes. 

“Really?” Mila didn’t seem convinced. “Seems to me we just have to change our plans, that’s all. Unless you _don’t_ want to come to the fair with me?”

In that instant, Alys took it all back. Grown-ups were not stupid; some grown-ups were geniuses. “The fair?” she burst out, excitement taking over as she looked up at her Daddy hopefully. “Can we, Daddy? Please?”

Daddy looked surprised, but pleased, too. “Well, that all depends,” he said, the frustrated sound gone from his voice. “Am _I_ invited to the fair, too?”

“I don’t know,” Mila drawled in reply. “What do you think, Alys? Should we take your dad to the fair, too?”

Alys tipped her head back to consider her father, who was looking down at her with smiling expectation. “If he _promises_ to behave and be fun, he can come,” she conceded finally, letting out a loud squeal of laughter as Daddy’s fingers wriggled into her ticklish sides. 

“I feel so loved,” he chuckled back.

“Aww, she loves you, Cullen.” Mila’s grin was audible as she answered. “She just _knows_ you, too.”

“I am not _that_ boring,” he defended himself, still laughing even as Alys calmed down. 

“You can’t be _that_ boring,” Alys agreed. “‘Cos otherwise Mila wouldn’t love you, and she does love you. Don’t you, Mila?”

She didn’t understand why everything went very silent for a sharp moment; why Daddy suddenly looked like someone had stepped on his favorite mug, wide eyes staring at her in horror. Then Mila’s voice came back, quiet and gentle in the way she was when she had _really_ been thinking about what she was going to say. 

“Yeah, Alys,” she agreed. “I do.”

Daddy’s hand reached out, snatching up the phone and turning the speaker off to raise it to his ear. Alys scowled at him. Grown-ups were always leaving her out of things like this, and this was a _good_ thing. She _liked_ Mila, and _Daddy_ liked Mila, and Mila _loved_ Daddy. So why did Daddy look like someone just kicked him in the shins?

“You don’t have to agree -” he was starting to say, but a burble of sound suggested Mila had interrupted him.

And something amazing happened to Alys’ Daddy’s face. He went pale, and then red, almost like he was shy of something he had heard. A slow smile crept over his face as he raised his free hand to his neck, rubbing hard while a faint huff of laughter left his lips. Then his arm wrapped about Alys, hugging her tight against him, but the words he spoke were for Mila.

“I love you, too.”

Alys grinned to herself, hugging into her Daddy’s chest as he laughed with Mila. She didn’t mind being left out if _that_ was what they were talking about. And they were going to the fair, _all_ of them, like a proper family. A proper family that loved each other. So that was just perfect.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [@missragdoll84](https://missragdoll84.tumblr.com/) on tumblr ... Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.
> 
> This takes place sometime between Chapters 8 & 10 of Dear Friend.

* * *

 

“So, Copper-top, you looking forward to going back to school?”

Alys looked up from her coloring to where Mila was leaning against the break-room counter, a steaming cup of soup in her hands. The little girl grimaced, shaking her head. 

“It’s more fun doing work stuff with Daddy,” she explained with a sigh. “But I _have_ to go to school, ‘cos I’m little.”

“Hey, school can be fun,” Mila pointed out, smiling at the unsatisfied response. “Don’t you want to spend time with your friends?”

“Well, yeah, but they could come to the zoo and do the sleepovers and stuff without, you know, _school_.”

Mila chuckled, moving to take a seat at the table with the girl. It had become almost easier to talk to Cullen’s daughter since she’d discovered that _Cullen_ was her Dear Friend, since it clearly meant that Alys was the Nuglet she’d also been conversing with for the last year. And Alys didn’t seem to mind the warmer friendliness, either. 

“I know school seems boring, but trust me, you’ll miss it when it’s gone,” she offered, nudging the child’s elbow fondly with her own. “I did. I still do sometimes.”

Alys pulled a face. “You’re weird.”

Mila laughed aloud, nodding in absolute agreement as the door opened. “Yes. Yes, I absolutely am.”

She glanced up as Cullen stepped into the break-room, his cheeks flushed with the cold, catching his eyes with her smile. And time seemed to stretch between them, eyes held locked in that gaze, somehow softer than usual, a strange intimacy for supposed friends. But friends wasn’t the right word for what they were. Mila knew herself well enough to know there was a word for what she was feeling. She loved Cullen. She loved Alys, too. She felt her heart clench, the urge to suddenly tell all rising on her tongue only to be squashed by the very real concern that perhaps the reason he hadn’t told _her_ was because he didn’t feel the same way. But ... if he didn’t feel the same way, why were his eyes so gentle on her sometimes? Why did he smile just because she was smiling? Why did he look to _her_ before letting his gaze drop to his daughter at her side?

“- and she’s _weird_ ,” she heard Alys’ voice fade back in as time seemed to snap back into place.

Cullen chuckled himself as he leaned down to kiss his cheeky daughter’s temple. “It takes one to know one,” was all he said, flicking Mila a teasing smile as he straightened and turned away. 

_It certainly does, doesn’t it?_ she mused to herself, distracted from admiring his backside by Alys scrabbling for a new pencil. _Question is ... when you know I’m one, will you take me?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from[@kagetsukai](https://kagetsukai.tumblr.com/) on tumblr ... Capernoited - Slightly intoxicated or tipsy.
> 
> I just love that word! This one definitely takes place after Dear Friend, but before any, you know, physical stuff happens. ;)

* * *

 

“Are you drunk?”

Cullen drew himself up in his seat - which was, admittedly, difficult to do when sprawled across half a couch with his girlfriend’s feet in his lap. He blinked owlishly, and grinned. 

“I,” he declared, “am _capernoited_.”

Mila peered at him over the rim of her glass, a slow smile spreading over her lips at the sheer pride radiating from him just for knowing that word, much less using it. 

“You,” she countered, “just made that up.”

He laughed, relaxing back against the couch cushions, his hands absently rubbing at the bare arches of her feet. The touch was so innocent, but after almost a month of dating and nothing more than kisses and hugs, it was a little more exhilarating than a foot rub is supposed to be. 

“I did not make it up,” Cullen insisted, his whiskey-warm eyes bright with amusement. “It means tipsy.”

“So why didn’t you just say tipsy, then? Trying to make me sound uneducated?”

He snorted with laughter once again, giving her feet a tug that drew her slithering over the seats. A tipsy Cullen was both incredibly tactile and frustratingly well-mannered, Mila had discovered, more given to talk than to following through on the tease of his touches. And despite herself, she actually _enjoyed_ that frustration. It was a genuine pleasure to spend time with someone who didn’t just forget she had a mind as well as a body the moment the alcohol hit them. Still, she wouldn’t mind him remembering that her body existed at some point. 

“My dear, dear Mila, you could never sound uneducated,” he assured her, reaching down to complete his tug by wrapping an arm about her waist to pull her fully into his lap. “Even when you’re being stubborn, you’re always well-informed.”

“ _I’m_ the stubborn one?” Her laugh was almost offended as she nuzzled to him, lips just barely tasting his breath before she leaned back to look him in the eye. “You know ... I think I’m capernoited, too.”

“Capernoited loves company,” Cullen nodded with a slow grin, long fingers curling to her neck and up into the fall of her hair to draw her down toward him.

“Daddy?”

A breath away from the teased kiss, Mila felt him sigh with the same frustration she felt before he lifted his head to call back to the little voice that had interrupted them. 

“Yes, Alys?”

“There’s a monster under my bed again.”

Mila bit her lips, watching the play of fond annoyance across Cullen’s face. He was torn between being a good father, and remaining right where he was, but she knew being a good father would win out. He was too good a _man_ for it not to. She slithered back to her own corner of the couch, waving him toward the stairs. 

“Fare thee well then, Commander Cullen the Capernoited. I’ll make sure everyone knew you were a good lay at your funeral.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [@kawakaeguri](https://kawakaeguri.tumblr.com/) on tumblr ... Grapholagnia - The urge to stare at obscene pictures.
> 
> I am laughing so hard right now! Okay ... okay, I can do this. Right? NSFW, for obvious reasons. Not sure I can do obscene with these two, but risque should work. At this point, they still haven’t crossed the line to the physical, and Mila’s getting impatient.

* * *

 

“What is she doing in Ostwick?”

Cullen tipped the last shovelful of manure into the barrow, setting his shovel down to lean on it. 

“Visiting her family,” he told Cassandra, his voice a little subdued. “She was not particularly looking forward to it.”

Cassandra nodded. “No, I understand she does not have the best relationship with her parents,” she agreed. “When is she back?”

“On Tuesday.” 

“And you have plans to take her out somewhere, I hope?” Cassandra pressed. “She will need good company after this trip.”

Cullen straightened, leaning out of the cage to set the shovel to one side. Turning his attention to renewing the hay the lions used as a nest of sorts in their interior, he felt his phone vibrate loudly in his pocket.

“I’m taking her to dinner at Felicisima,” he assured his friend, digging in his pocket to raise his phone, smiling at the notification of a message from Mila. Unlocking the phone, he swiped to the message ... and felt his ears turn bright red. “Uh ...”

“What?” Cassandra craned to see what had caught his attention. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing!” He’d never crammed his phone back into his pocket so quickly in his life, earning himself a suspicious look from his colleague. “Just ... she says she’s missing us.”

“Of course.” The Nevarran woman was not convinced, her small smile more than enough of a tease without her next words. “And that is, naturally, why you look as though someone could fry an egg on your forehead.”

“That’s what she wrote!” he insisted defensively, but that blush only got deeper as he felt the phone vibrate again. _Maker’s breath ..._ “She’s missing us. And she ... went shopping with her sister today.”

He knew he shouldn’t have said that the moment the words left his lips. Cassandra’s tiny smile was suddenly a broad, knowing grin. _Never_ tell a woman in a healthy relationship that your girlfriend is sending you text messages about having been shopping. He might as well have erected a giant neon sign over his head declaring what Mila was sending to him. There was another vibration from his pocket. Cassandra snorted with laughter.

“You should keep up with those messages,” she suggested, raising the wheelbarrow arms to begin wheeling it out. “Or you might explode in a mess of Fereldan modesty.”

“I’m not ...” 

Cullen gaped as she left him in the cage, acutely aware that she was probably right about that. He wasn’t _quite_ as buttoned-up as his friend seemed to think, but he might not survive seeing every picture Mila had to show him in one go. But first, he had to finish with the cage, something made entirely too difficult by the insistent buzz of his phone every so often. How much had she bought? More importantly, what was she trying to do to him?

Well, it was obvious what she was trying to do, he reflected on his way back to the break-room, hoping against hope that he’d have the space to himself for a little while. He’d counted four vibrations. Four messages to peruse. 

He was completely out of luck when he reached the break-room, and indeed, for the rest of the work day. Never a moment alone, and all the while the glimpse of that first message running through his mind. It was exquisite torture, and he was pretty damned sure she knew it. Her playful streak was almost as merciless as Alys’ could be at times. Eventually, however, his duty shift was over. He had never been more pleased to leave work, and yet ... no, he _still_ didn’t have the leisure to browse his phone. He didn’t dare look at the messages, just in case they caught his entire attention. He had to pick Alys up from school and spend the early evening with her before he could even consider allowing himself the pleasure of what was waiting for him. Just knowing what was on his phone was sweet agony, especially since he was _trying_ to be a gentleman and not pounce her the second she came back into arms’ reach. But finally, blessedly, Alys was in bed, and he had time to himself. 

His hand was trembling just a little as he took up his phone, unlocking it to open the messages contained therein.

And there it was. The picture that had set off his afternoon of pleasant torture. Mila, in a changing room of some kind, wearing nothing but a lace bustier, skimpy panties, and stockings, smiling impishly at the camera as she posed. Cullen felt that flush return to his face, but not quite as strongly as it had when he’d first seen the image. No, his blood had another destination in mind, fingers itching to have her right _here_ so he could peel the peach lace from her form and worship the wicked temptress who had sent him this just to tease. It seemed to take an age for his eyes to track down to the text beneath the image, dragged back over and over again to admire the slender curves in figure-hugging lace. 

_We went shopping! Try not to get too excited - I only bought one of these. ;)_

“Maker’s breath ...”

Clearing his throat, he shifted in his seat, forcing his free hand to rest on the arm of the couch as he scrolled down to the next picture. The same changing room, unforgiving lighting casting her tousled hair into tuggable shadows, and this time, there was more on show. No stockings or garter belt to tease him with, but a bra of shocking pink overlaid with black lace that hugged her breasts, cupping them tight enough to taunt him with cleavage he wanted to bury his face in. The matching panties were even skimpier this time, and again, he felt his fingers itching to touch the long legs he’d only seen covered in person. 

And the last picture ... He raised his hand to his dry mouth, struggling to hold in a very unmanly whimper. She was trying to kill him, clearly. Another set, bra and panties and garter belt in mouth-watering red and black lace, settled perfectly on her tanned skin. His eyes studied every nuance, from the teasing modesty of the panties covering a promised land he had been promising himself for a while now, to the decadent indulgence of a garter belt and stockings that must have been designed to inflame the man in her life, to the delicate cups that held her breasts like a lover’s hands. Like _his_ hands should. And, of course, to the beautiful face above it all, that smiled mischievously into the camera with come-hither eyes. Oh, if only he could. 

His thumb moved over the keyboard. _You’re a wicked woman, Mila Trevelyan._

It was barely a minute before he received a reply, his heart stuttering for a moment before he read the words that proved his response a true one.

_I know! See you Tuesday, handsome. xxx_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Mila _finally_ get laid. Suffice it to say, NSFW.

"This really wasn't what I had in mind to welcome you home after your trip."

Mila laughed, turning her eyes away from the chiller cabinet to look at Cullen's slightly pouty expression. Neither of them exactly _shone_ under the fluorescent light of the grocery store, but she was fairly sure neither of them would have looked particularly good in the half-darkness of the restaurant, either.

"It's hardly your fault they set fire to their own kitchen half an hour before we showed up," she pointed out to him. "Besides, it's not the fancy that makes it a good welcome home. It's the company."

"I had a plan," he complained, scowling as he examined the packet of steak in his hand. "It was supposed to be a proper date. I even convinced Cassandra and Varric to take Alys for the night."

"And I'm sure she's having a fantastic time," Mila assured him in amusement.

In actual fact, they didn't need to guess how much fun Alys was having - Varric kept sending Cullen pictures of what his daughter was up to. In the forty minutes since she'd joined her dejected boyfriend outside the closed restaurant, Mila had been shown one picture of Alys elbow-deep in hamburger mix, one picture of Varric and Alys eating the same enormous burger from either side, and one picture of Cassandra contorted into an astonishing position while playing Twister with the little girl. It was safe to say that Alys was definitely having a good evening. Cullen, on the other hand ...

Mila sighed gently through her smile. He was so focused on what had gone wrong, he was forgetting to pay attention to the fact that she was still there with him. She pulled the sauce packet out of his hand, gently turning his chin until he met her gaze.

"If you don't stop sulking, I am going to kiss you in such a thoroughly indecent way that we will get thrown out of this store and probably banned for life," she threatened him fondly.

His eyes, those whiskey-bright eyes she'd become so attached to over the past few months, darkened with expectant promise that made her smile flare into life once again. His lips twitched toward a smile as he leaned toward her.

"If I promise to stop sulking, do I still get a kiss?"

She laughed again, tugging him close to brush her lips tenderly to his for a long moment, reveling in the relaxed way he accepted and answered her affection even in a public place.

"Do you promise not to be moody for the rest of the night?" she asked, her breath warming his lips as she grinned at him.

Cullen chuckled, raising a hand to rub at his neck. "I can try."

"Well, maybe this will help." She leaned close to his ear, her grin wide, and lowered her voice. "I'm wearing the lingerie I bought in Ostwick."

Cullen went very still. A creaking sound drew her attention downward, to where his hand had clenched around the vacuum-packed beef he was still holding. Raising an innocent - yet infinitely wicked - gaze to his his face, Mila grinned to see his ears burning red and his eyes locked on hers, stormy with anticipation.

"Hungry, love?"

He drew in a slow, deep breath, relaxing his grip on the meat to drop it into the basket he held. "Yes, but I think we should eat dinner first."

Laughing, Mila stepped a little back from him, catching his hand in hers as they browsed the aisles of the store. Tonight had been a long time coming - longer than it seemed for most of their friends. Only a very few knew that their respective Dear Friends had been mutual. But, to be honest, she didn't care if anyone thought they were being hasty. She could honestly say she had fallen for Cullen's mind and heart before linking his good looks to the whole package, and he knew that. The only problem now was that they had both spent so many hours in anticipation of what seemed inevitable tonight that it was making things ever so slightly awkward.

It wasn't his fault that the kitchen at Felicisima had erupted into flames on the night he'd made his booking. But for some reason, Cullen seemed to be looking at that as though it were a kind of bad omen. Mila didn't mind the alternative they had come up with in the slightest - to stop by the grocery store on their way back to his place and buy the ingredients to cook a meal themselves. It wasn't as though she hadn't already spent hours in his home. But he was so focused on doing things the right way, he'd forgotten that it didn't matter _how_ it happened. What _mattered_ was them.

Winter was still clinging on in Ferelden, but it was only really the chill wind that made the walk from the grocery store to Cullen's house mildly unpleasant. He argued about who was going to carry the bag, but Mila was at least as stubborn as he was, and since she'd lost the argument about who was paying, she insisted on carrying. And despite the fact that it _had_ been an argument, it had been a comfortable sort of argument; a disagreement resolved with the application of affectionate debate, rather than angry words that meant nothing and hurt everything.

Inside his home, she set the bag down on the kitchen island to undo and remove her coat as he closed and locked the door, shaking her hair out over her shoulders. Turning back, she paused, finding Cullen's whiskey-warm eyes pinned to her, bright and stormy and wanting, skimming over the figure-hugging black dress that was so far out of her comfort-zone and worn just for him.

"Like what you see?" she asked, teasing heat filling her voice.

His eyes snapped to hers, and for the briefest moment, she could have sworn she heard him growl. His coat thumped to the floor as he reached for her, warm hands pulling her close as his mouth covered hers, hungry for more than just teasing words and inviting looks. She moaned into him, her own hands roaming, fingers combing into his hand, trailing down his back, body arching into him as he grasped the roundness of her bottom to pull her closer.

"Fuck dinner," she heard him groan between those fiery kisses, laughing in answer as abruptly he lifted her off her feet, pressing her back onto the kitchen island, knocking the bag over to disgorge its contents without a second thought.

Long fingers she had fantasized about so many times skimmed down from her hips to her thighs, blazing a trail that earthed itself deep inside her, liquid heat that had been simmering for far too long. His mouth was still hungry, grinning with her as her fingers undid the buttons of his shirt, forgetting the desire to do things in the right order, forgetting everything but the desire for the woman in his arms, the woman he loved and had wanted for far longer than he had admitted to himself. She shifted from one hip to the other, legs wrapping about his waist, tugging him in tighter, closer, wanting to feel more than the mere promise of his desire pressing against her from inside the constraint of his pants, and gasped as his hands slid upward, peeling the tight cling of her dress up over her hips and higher, urging her arms to rise until he was tossing the dress aside without a second glance.

Large hands so used to holding a pen, heaving a shovel, skimmed for a moment over the vulnerable plane of her back, testing the waters with the lightest of touches before claiming her skin with a confidence that took her breath away. Soft lips, lips she knew intimately with her own, finally had the courage to explore, trailing down from her mouth to tease wickedly against the curve of her neck, over her shoulder, discovering sensitive places that were now his to enjoy. She arched against him, already keening with soft frustration. She didn't _want_ slow and gentle, not right now. That could wait for another time, another hour. She _needed_ him, right now, however he wanted to take her.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, dragging his head up to nip at his lips.

"Later," she growled, her other hand sliding between them to tug open button and fly as he groaned once again, his breath stuttering in his throat as she found warm, hard flesh to stroke and tease with a firm hand.

"But ... we'll make a mess," he protested softly, his hands already moving to tug the satin panties from her hips as she shifted for him.

Mila grinned, kicking the soft material from one foot as she pulled him closer all over again, pushing at the pants and boxers that still clung to his hips.

"We're in the kitchen," she reminded him wickedly. "Everything is wipe clean."

Cullen snorted, burying his face in her neck to let his laughter vibrate through her for a long moment. One hand pressed to her lower back, sliding her bare backside to the edge of the counter. Or trying to, at least ... she stuck a few times, making herself laugh all over again as she wriggled to the edge, giggles fading into a groaning grin as she finally felt his cock stroke against the throbbing slickness of her quim. Nose to nose, she watched his eyes cloud for the faintest moment, felt his cock twitch to bounce against her twanging clit with a lancing rush of electric desire ... felt his hand slip between them to guide himself inside her.

Smiles faded in that moment of joining, the intensity of sensation, of finally being this close to the person so deeply ingrained in their hearts overwhelming even laughter for a brief, rending moment of time. Then he was moving, drawing back, thrusting hard, and Mila leaned away to embrace that moment, arching over the arm that banded around her back, thighs clenched tight to his jerking hips. Screw soft and gentle, screw doing things in the right order ... _Fuck, just screw **me**_ , she thought, her lips curving in a fresh grin that lived for barely a split second before the breath left her in a sudden rush that had no time even for a gasp of delight.

Because Cullen, despite having been celibate for four years, clearly knew _exactly_ what he was doing. From the tilt of his hips, to the deliberate thrusts that teased as much as they satisfied, to the fingers that pulled down the cups of her bra to let that hungry mouth of his nip and suckle at her breasts, he was no amateur when it came to love-making. Even when she pushed herself back up, spilling her fingers through his hair as she reclaimed his lips with her own, he didn't let up, hands falling to lift her ass, to tilt her hips just so, and ... _Andraste's tits, he's good_ ... she didn't think this was going to last even half as long as she wanted it to. But it was only round one.

That thought in mind, she growled against his lips, shivering as he growled back, as the slap of his pelvis into the cradle of her own shortened and increased in speed, impatience and frustration driving them both to the brink and over the edge into whirling, shuddering, shimmering bliss that had been far too long in the making. Breathless, she clung to him as he clung to her, intoxicated by the warmth of his breath at the crook of her neck, the gentle flex of his hands at her hip and back, the tender sound of his ecstatic groan as he spilled into pleasure within her.

And for a long time, there they stayed, wrapped around each other, both not quite naked, joined in the most intimate way against his kitchen counter, brushing soft kisses to shoulders, necks, finally lips to lip, trading tenderness as the first wild rush of desire was gently set aside. No more awkwardness, no more gentlemanly deflections. They'd finally reached this point, and Mila would be damned before she would let Cullen even think about apologizing and trying to do it properly another night. She was here now; here she was staying.

"So," she breathed, nuzzling to him as his fingers caressed her back. "Dinner?"

Cullen snorted with laughter, pressing a long kiss to her lips.

"Later," was his low growl, drawing a whimpering moan from her as he kicked shoes and pants from his feet and hoisted her up off the counter, still buried within her quivering quim as her arms and legs wrapped about his broad form. "I am nowhere _near_ finished with you yet ..."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All I want for Satinalia ...

The snow was falling again as Cullen pulled into the drive, killing the engine to take a deep breath.

This was it.

Tonight was the night.

Unfortunately, Alys also knew tonight was the night, and if there was one thing Cullen had learned about his precocious daughter over the last year, it was that she could not be trusted with big secrets unless you were very sure she wanted the reveal to go off without a hitch. And even then, she had a tendency to drop hints the size of dragons, just to make sure it all happened the way she wanted it to.  She had also been alone with Mila for several hours today, although it looked as though Mila had followed through on the threat to keep the little woman of the house busy with decorations and lights.

From the outside, he could just see the tree, undecorated as yet, through a window that had been hung with sparkling multi-colored lights. He could also see Alys and Mila, dancing together in front of the tree, wearing near identical smiles as they twirled and bounced.

Cullen's smile relaxed as he watched them. Asking Mila to move in over the summer had been a nerve-wracking experience, and not without its minor speed-bumps. But there really was nothing better than coming home to a warm house straight from work, confident that Alys was home and safe without needing to go and pick her up from his sister's house on the way. Knowing that the woman he loved was either there with his daughter, or on her way home from her own shift to join them, at the end of the day.

This past year had been an unexpected delight. From the confusion of discovering that his Dear Friend was Mila Trevelyan, to having _her_ tell _him_ about it on Last Day, to establishing their relationship, all the way through to living together ... he could not recall another year since Rory’s death where laughter had so easily outweighed stress and upset. Alys was happier than she had been in years, blossoming in the constant presence of a female role model who had more than enough time to give her; if Cullen was brutally honest with himself, he was right there with her. He would always miss Rory, but she would never forgive him if he let missing her consume him for the rest of his life. Mila was a breath of fresh air, a spark fanning easily into a steady flame in his heart. Isabela might have been a little premature with her prediction last year, but not too much.

He looked down at his hands, at the little velvet box flipped open to reveal sparkling pink and white diamonds. Alys had insisted on helping to pick it out, despite knowing that it would likely spend every working hour on a chain around Mila's neck. But this wasn't just a request for him; it was for Alys, too. She had every right to be intimately involved in a decision that would alter their future just a little. Just enough to make what they had now official ... _if_ Mila agreed.

Maker's breath, he hoped she would agree. They had two years together, if you counted the year spent as unknowing pen-pals. Indeed, thanks to that first year, they knew more about one another than most couples did at this point in their relationship. They still wrote to one another, too - when there was something that needed to be discussed, knowing one another's temperaments as they did, those discussions took place on paper over the course of several days and were never alluded to out loud until the discussion was over. Perhaps it was strange, but it meant that Alys lived in a home where voices raised in frustration or anger was never an occurrence.

It was worth navigating a little strange to be able to give her that and, Cullen had to admit, it was a surprisingly effective way of staying friends with his lover even while arguing.  Everything that was difficult to say aloud was shared in writing. He would never forget the first time he'd tried it; when he had put pen to paper to explain his conflicted feelings over loving Mila set against the backdrop of losing Rory. She had read it silently, and wrapped her arms around him, whispering her answer into his ear with a gentle kiss.

"Who says you have to stop loving her to love me?"

And later, she had explained her tense relationship with her parents to him by the same method, allowing him to understand why she went back to Ostwick just once a year and even then spent more time with her sister than her parents. For him, who had lost his parents years before and missed them deeply, it had been difficult to understand that estrangement before he had read the reasons for himself in her hand. Since then, he did not bring up her parents in conversation, but remembered to invite her sister to her birthday celebration, a feat for which he had been unexpectedly rewarded with a _lot_ of enthusiasm.

He knew her, inside and out. He'd seen her at her best and at her worst; he'd argued with her, cried with her, laughed with her, loved with her. He'd learned all over again how to be one parent of two while letting her learn how to parent in her own way, and watched as Alys thrived with a female influence on her life. The question he wanted to ask was just a means of making what they already had legal and binding. So why was he so worried she wouldn't give him the answer he craved?

Movement made him look up, shaken from his thoughts by the sight of Alys standing in the light from the open front door, hands on her hips as she glared at him. As well she might; he'd promised it would happen when he got home, and he'd been sitting in the driveway for how long now? He was lucky she hadn't come out and physically dragged him out of the car.

With a roll of his eyes, he tucked the little box away in his pocket, climbing out of the car to the tune of his delightful daughter's welcome home.

"You get in here and get smoochin', or I'm doing it myself!"

"And good evening to you too, oh light of my life," was his answer as he bent to hoist the cheeky little girl up onto his hip, pressing a loud, cold kiss to her cheek as Alys squealed with laughter. "And where is the other light of my life?"

"In the kitchen," Alys informed him with a grin, giving the door a push to close it before Cullen set her back on her feet again. She looked furtively toward the kitchen, lowering her voice hopefully. "Did you bring it?"

Cullen produced the little ring box and set it into her open hands.

"Do you remember what we agreed?" he whispered, his grin widening further as Alys nodded enthusiastically.

"You have to keep her in the kitchen until I come get you," she ordered him with very serious eyes.

"I'm sure I'll think of something," he promised, kissing her hair. "Go on."

He watched her scurry away in a whirl of red curls and sparkly tights, shucking off his coat before heading into the kitchen to find Mila busily chopping and dicing with her back to him. Unable to resist, he slid his arms about her waist, grinning against her hair as she stiffened in surprise.

"Never fails," he murmured, accepting the elbow in his ribs with good grace and a kiss to her jaw. "No kiss for the returning man of the house?"

Mila laughed, setting the knife down as she leaned back into his arms for a moment.

"I was confidently informed that if I met you at the door, the world would end horribly for everyone," she told him in amusement, tilting her head to watch his expression from the corner of her eye. "So naturally I am now deeply suspicious of both you _and_ your daughter."

"It is a sensible precaution," he agreed, pressing another kiss to her neck to hide his face. Alys really could not keep a secret even under pain of tickle torture. He was going to have to come up with a better way of keeping her lip zipped.

"Oh, so you _are_ conspiring against me, hmm?" Mila accused him in a laughing tone.

Cullen chuckled, reaching his arm further around her to turn his somewhat contentious lover to face him. Of course, that tendency to argue was something he enjoyed rather than frustrated him these days, but he was loathe to let her know that. Mila did enjoy being the winner of a playful debate.

"I swear, on Varric's chest hair, there is no conspiracy _against_ you," he promised, grinning at the snort of laughter this produced from Mila.

"But there is a conspiracy?" she pressed, brows high in curious mirth.

"I think Alys already let the cat out of the bag on that one."

She laughed again, the sound fading to nothing more than a smiling murmur as he bent his head to claim his welcome home kiss. The only problem with both of them working in the same division of the same department at the zoo was that they rarely got to share days off ... though that, of course, meant that Alys spent less time feeling like a burden on her Auntie Mia. Still, it meant that coming home, or waiting for Mila to come home, had become a part of Cullen's day that he looked forward to with bright enjoyment. He just couldn't relax for the evening without a hug and kiss from both his girls. There really was nothing like it in the world.

"I'm ready!"

The kiss broke between them in a splutter of snorting snickers as Alys' voice broadcast through the house in that peculiarly piercing tone she always used when she knew perfectly well that her father was doing adult things with Mila. There really was a lot of Rory in Cullen's little girl, and he couldn't have wished for more ... though it would be nice if a _little_ of his own reserve had made it into the cheeky little girl's personality.

"I think your daughter wants you," Mila told him, her voice warm with affectionate mirth.

Cullen grinned down at her, relaxing his grasp at her waist only to take hold of her hand as he turned toward the living room.

"I think you'll find she wants both of us," he corrected in a cheerful tone, hoping the sudden flare of nervous butterflies in his stomach weren't noticeable on his face or in his voice.

"Oh, is the conspiracy about to be revealed?" Mila asked in a teasing tone. "Should I act stupid, or put on a dress?"

Confused, he glanced over his shoulder at her, relieved to find that she was still smiling. Why in the Void would she need to put a dress on for this? Mila didn't really do dresses except for very special occasions, and Cullen was hardly one to change her so much that she felt the need to dress up for him. Of course, Alys probably would have insisted on a dress if she knew that was on the table, but thankfully, she hadn't heard the comment.

The little girl was standing next to the naked Satinalia tree, bouncing on her toes in hyperactive impatience. A quick sweep of his gaze over the greenery at his daughter's back made a little of Cullen's nerves settle - she had done exactly what she had promised to do. Now all that remained was for Mila to notice it.

"What are you ready for, Nuglet?" Mila asked as she was tugged over to the tree.

Cullen couldn't help smiling at the absentminded way she reached out to skim her fingers over Alys' copper curls, or the way Alys leaned into that absent affection without a second thought. It was a good feeling, to see them so comfortable together.

"Daddy's here, so we can decorate the tree, right?" Alys demanded of Mila, looking up at the tall woman hopefully.

Mila looked bemused as she answered.

"I thought we were going to decorate the tree after dinner and before dessert," she countered, glancing at the tall fir for a moment.

Cullen held his breath, his hands clenching behind his back as the woman he loved suddenly went very still. Her head turned slowly back toward the bristling tree, her gaze seeking out that one piece of sparkle that had not been there when last she had looked. There, tied onto one of the branches with a silver ribbon, was a delicate circle of white gold and pink and white diamond. Mila reached out, gently tilting the ring on her fingertip.

"Cullen?"

His name was barely more than a whisper on her breath as she stared at the beautiful ring. He smiled, stepping close to her back to press a warm kiss to her neck, arms wrapping about her waist when he felt her trembling. She didn't seem to be able to tear her eyes away from the ring, not even when Alys took her other hand in both her own.

"Mila ... will you marry us?"

Cullen felt the shock of the question ripple through the woman in his arms, gently squeezing to reassure her that the question came from them both. Mila drew in a shaking breath, tearing her eyes from the sparkling ring to look down at the hopeful little face looking up at her. The face that was a miniature version of Rory, a woman she had never met, albeit with Cullen's eyes.

"Us?" she asked softly.

Alys nodded, her little face beaming bright as she wrapped her arms around Mila's waist, sandwiching the woman between father and daughter. As for himself, Cullen eased just that little bit closer, murmuring into her ear.

"We would very much like you to officially be a part of our family, Mila," he said, quietly fervent in his hope that this was not too much for her to absorb. "Marry me?"

As her head tilted toward him, he had a perfect view of her face when Alys piped up.

"I want you to be my Mummy."

From Cullen's viewpoint, he had a front row seat to Mila's wide-eyed reaction. He watched the amazement, the shock, the fear; all of it flowing through her gaze, knowing that Alys' little addendum was far more of a shock than his proposal. But that was what this meant. They wanted Mila to be _theirs_ , not just his. Alys was as much a part of their relationship as they were. And slowly, he watched as hesitant hope flickered in those soulful eyes he loved so well.

"Are you sure?" Mila asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Cullen ... are you sure this is -"

"I'm sure." He cut her off with his certainty, with his warm smile, with a kiss to her temple and a nod toward Alys. "And so is she. We wouldn't ask if we weren't sure, Mila."

He saw Alys open her mouth out of the corner of his eye, unwrapping one hand from Mila's waist to lay a finger on his daughter's lips. The last thing he wanted was to put any undue pressure on Mila, and Alys pleading would definitely do that. Sure enough, he felt a pout under his finger, but the little girl kept her mouth shut, instead pressing her face into the softness of Mila's sweater.

Mila reached out again, gently unhooking the ring from the tree. Cullen swallowed, feeling his heart hammer in his chest. This was it, this was the moment, this was when he found out if he'd raised his daughter's hopes for nothing. He watched as Mila considered the ring on her palm, raising her head to show him a familiarly lopsided smile.

"Isn't the man supposed to be on his knees at this point?" she asked sweetly, and in that moment, he knew what her answer was.

Relief flood through him, brightening his smile to a glowing grin, tightening his arms about her as she leaned back into him with a quiet laugh of her own, her other hand stroking over Alys' hair once again.

"Daddy, you did it wrong!" Alys accused him from waist-level, scowling unhappily at the thought that doing it wrong had somehow made sure that Mila wouldn't say yes. "It doesn't _really_ matter, does it, Mila?"

Mila looked down at the little girl, finally having mercy on the pair of them. She raised her finger, twirling the sparkling ring about her fingertip with one raised brow.

"Do I have to put this on before you start calling me Mummy, then?"

To say Alys' face was a picture was an understatement. Despite everything, Cullen didn't think he had ever seen his little girl go from incredulous to delighted so fast in her entire life. In fact, he only just had time to brace himself against Mila's back before Alys launched herself into the air, throwing her arms around Mila's neck as the two women in his life laughed and hugged together.

Chuckling, he rescued the ring from Mila's fingers as she hoisted Alys to her waist, wrapping his arms around both of them. One hand captured Mila's, sliding the ring home as he kissed her, tasting her smile as much as sharing his own. In their arms, Alys giggled, snuggling close into both of them, delighted that the one thing she had been wishing for had happened.

That was two Satinalia wishes that had come true now. Time to start working on next year.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me at [shannaraisles](https://shannaraisles.tumblr.com/) on tumblr to give me a prompt for Cullen and Mila, or just to chat!


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